


Stolen Hearts

by d-ama-ien (ama_janee)



Category: A Heist With Markiplier (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (oh my god they were roommates), Brief mentions of murder and prison, Fluff, French Kissing, Heist!Mark is actually here too for a bit, Kissing, Obligatory "it's not Mark it's just Yancy and he doesn't have a tag" here, Other, POV First Person, Post-Heist, Roommates, Yancy is so cheesy and cute I love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27273385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama_janee/pseuds/d-ama-ien
Summary: Yancy has been on his best behavior since Y/N left Happy Trails Penitentiary, and when parole comes around he actually is considered for it. Better than considered, he’s out on parole and free to roam normal society as a free man for the first time, well, ever. He was arrested as a teenager, after all. Reunited with Y/N, they help Yancy navigate his new life on the outside.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Reader, Mark Fischbach/You, Yancy (A Heist With Markiplier)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	Stolen Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> A little something to wish Heist (and Yancy) a happy first birthday!

To put it lightly, I was surprised when Yancy showed up on my doorstep. To put it accurately, my jaw dropped, brain unable to produce any words other than "Holy shit."

He looked so shy, or embarrassed, or something- head down and shrunken in on himself like a kicked puppy, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I'm, uh, sorry to bother youse," he mumbles, and it finally hits me that I'm being incredibly rude.

"No, no, you're not bothering me at all! Why don't you come in?" I offer without really thinking, stepping aside to let him in my apartment. I live plenty comfortably- Mark and I may have failed at our last heist, but we had been professional criminals for a long time, and I'm basically retired and set for life at this point. Which is good because I wasn't particularly interested in the criminal lifestyle after our stint in prison. 

"Could I get you anything? Water, tea, coffee?" I ask, watching as Yancy hesitantly takes a seat on my couch. 

"Nah, I'm good, thanks," Yancy smiles a bit at me as I sit on the armchair next to the couch. 

"So, you're not in prison!" I don't know what else to start with; stating the obvious seems a good way to go. Yancy laughs a bit at that, his posture relaxing as he sinks into the couch a bit more.

"Yeah, after youse left, I did a bit of thinking and decided to go for parole the next time it came up. Which was last week, and I got approved and got out today. Gotta check in with an officer and all that, but as long as I'm good, I get to stay out the rest of my sentence!" Yancy smiles brightly as he tells me about his newfound freedom, and I can't help but smile back.

"I'm really happy to hear that, Yancy," I say, entirely earnestly. I had a vague idea of what had happened to land him in prison. His references to the "incidents" and his dead parents were less than subtle, but he seemed both genuinely remorseful and also genuinely changed. I mean, he clearly has a bit of a temper, based on our fight after I said I wanted to leave, but otherwise seemed like a good guy. 

"So, you just got out today? How is life on the other side treating you?" I ask.

"Yeah, the paperwork was a bitch to get through, but it's been pretty decent so far. I didn't realize how much stuff changed while I was locked up. And I ran into a small issue when meeting my parole officer," Yancy averts his eyes from mine at that part, seeming a bit uncomfortable bringing it up.

"Did everything get cleared up?" I ask, unable to hide my worry. I would hate for Yancy to get out and start turning things around, only to get dragged back to prison by some little problem with his officer.

"Yeah, yeah, I just… I got a favor to ask," Yancy looks intently at my coffee table as he speaks.

"Of course, whatever I can do! I really owe you one after you got me out," I try to be reassuring with a smile on my face as I respond. 

"Well… I dunno it's a big ask. Youse know how I don't really have any family out here?" I definitely haven't forgotten about his thing with his parents and his aversion to family bonds, well, aversion to bonds _outside_ of prison anyways. I nod after a moment, still trying to keep my face open and reassuring while remembering how Yancy had killed his parents. I mean, I did my fair share of unsavory things, but murder is, well, murder. It didn't hurt my opinion of Yancy too much, but it didn't mean I liked to think about it.

"So, a condition of my parole is that I need to live with someone that the officer can talk to. Usually, it would be a relative, but, yeah. And, uh, youse is the only person I know on the outside, so. _AnychanceIcouldlivewithyouseforabit_?" Yancy rushes out the last bit so quickly I barely catch it. I can feel the wheels turning as I process Yancy's request- he needs to live with someone. With _me_ for the indefinite future so that he has someone that the parole officer can talk to. Yeah, it's definitely a big ask. But, the only reason I'm here is because of Yancy's help, and it doesn't feel fair to throw that back in his face, especially if it could get him sent back to prison. 

"I'd be happy to help you, Yancy. You can stay here as long as you need to," Yancy's eyes widen in shock as I answer. 

"Youse mean it? I can really stay with youse?" He asks, unable to hide his surprise. 

"I mean it. I'm happy to help, and I'm only out here because of what you did for me," I blush slightly as Yancy grabs my hand in his excitement, squeezing tightly as he thanks me. 

"I can't get a job quite yet, gotta have a few successful visits with my officer first, but I'll do stuff round the house, and I'll chip in for rent as soon as I can work, whatever you need me to do!" I laugh a bit as Yancy enthusiastically offers any and every kind of household help he can think of. "I can even cook for youse. I did a few years of kitchen work, so I'm sure I'll be a fast learner,"

"For now, you can help me make up the couch," I interrupt with a laugh. "I have a spare room but no bed or air mattress, so you'll have to sleep here for now. We can get furniture for there this weekend, though," Yancy finally lets go of my hand then, eagerly standing up to follow me to the small hall closet that had some spare blankets, sheets, and pillows. Soon the couch was comfortably loaded with blankets and pillows, making a cozy-looking temporary bed.

"Well, I was actually about to head to bed, but you can help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and if you need anything, my room is right down the hall, alright?" I smile at Yancy as he fuses with the blankets some more.

"Thank youse. Really, thank youse," Yancy's face is so open and vulnerable that my heart aches, but I just swallow the ache and cover it with a smile.

"You don't have to thank me, I'm happy to help you. Good night! Come knock if you need anything," Yancy nods, wishing me a good night. I breathe a sigh of relief when I shut the door to my room behind me. I am happy to help Yancy and have him stay here, but it is also a lot for one night. I can't believe that he decided to leave prison, even though I'm the only person he knows on the outside. Could I really mean that much to him with such little time spent together? 

After getting cleaned up and changed for bed, I grab my phone, clicking through my text messages until I find my messages with Mark. We may have moved past our lives of crime, but we had worked together for many years and had become good friends throughout working together, so we were still in touch.

_You'll never believe who just showed up here_ I send, laying in bed and getting comfortable as I wait on a response. I'm scrolling through a random article when Mark answers.

_The cop that had been hunting us the last few years?_

_If I had run into him, I'd be in jail, so, no._ I answer. I love Mark to death, he works fairly well under pressure and is a skilled heist partner, but he's also an idiot. 

_Who?_

_It's no fun when you don't play along. It's Yancy, that guy who broke me out_

_Huh. Cool_ I sigh at Mark's lack of enthusiasm, but it's not that surprising. 

_You think you'd be more excited about a chance to meet the guy who saved your best friend_

_Whopee_ I don't need the eye roll emoji to know he's rolling his eyes, but the emoji confirms it. I drop the conversation. Maybe he'll be more excited once he meets Yancy, plugging my phone in and checking my alarms for the next day. The house is quiet; I suppose Yancy had settled down already as well. I was tired enough that I fell asleep quickly, and it's a deep and dreamless sleep until my alarm goes off the next day.

I make my way to the kitchen first thing in the morning, needing my favorite form of caffeine before getting ready for the day. I vaguely notice that Yancy's "bed" is empty and unmade, and more actively notice a slight curse from the kitchen.

"Yancy?" I ask, walking into the kitchen with some confusion. He's hunched over the Keurig, pushing one of the buttons repeatedly, though it doesn't respond. He grumbles slightly before turning to face me with a sheepish smile.

"I thought I could make youse a drink, but I've never used one of these before," He explains, the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. 

"Sorry if this is invasive, but how long were you in prison?" I ask, walking over to check if he broke anything on the Keurig. 

"A little over fifteen years, now, I think," Yancy watches with interest as I open the top section, inserting one of the pods before closing it and selecting it a cup size.

"I guess Keurigs weren't super common in 2005, right?" At least I don't remember having one back then, but it's also been a while. "Wait, fifteen years? How old were you when arrested?"

I wouldn't peg Yancy as anything past his mid-thirties, but he would've only been a teenager when arrested if that was the case.

"I was sixteen," he answers, his attention focused on the Keurig as it dripped my drink into the mug Yancy had put there. 

“ _Sixteen_?” I repeat, absolutely shocked. Part of me is instantly horrified- what kind of kid murders both his parents?- but the other part of me is still horrified because what the hell did his parents do to drive him to that point? Yancy only shrugs, seeming uninterested in the revelation.

"I was a pretty fucked up kid. That's why I had no issue staying in prison. I deserved to be put there," I grab the, now full, mug from its spot in the Keurig, moving it to the side as I select a second mug and get it set up. I feel like we're getting into a serious and invasive conversation for the first thing in the morning, so I quickly change the topic.

"Here, you can look through the flavors I have and pick whatever looks good," I show him the collection of little cups, letting him pursue the flavors in peace as I add my preferred amount of sugar and creamer to my cup. I walk Yancy through the steps of using the Keurig, excusing myself to get dressed and ready for the day while his cup is prepared. 

"So, I have to head out in a bit, but I'll give you a quick tour of where everything is, and I'll leave my phone number so you can use the house phone if you need me. This weekend we'll look for stuff like a computer, cell phone, clothes, but for now, just help yourself to whatever books or movies catch your interest," I'm sitting with Yancy now, each of us set up with a bowl of cereal to go with our chosen forms of caffeine. Yancy nods along as I talk, hanging on to every word. After we finish eating, I bring him to the living room first, pointing out the various consoles I have with the TV, explaining how to play the DVDs when I realize he didn't have any experience with them. I'm pretty sure I still used a VHS player in 2005, so I try not to be impatient as I walk Yancy through loading and playing a disk. I show him to the spare room next. It's where I keep my hobby stuff, as well as my bookshelves, next to the bathroom, which he had apparently found last night, and pointing out what was kept in each hall closet, and pointing out the door to my room.

"I think that's everything. Do you have any questions?" I wrap it up back in the living room, writing my cell number on a notepad if Yancy needs me during the day.

"Nah, I think I'll have it handled for a day. Will youse be gone long?" Yancy looks incredibly worried at the idea of me being away for a long time.

"Hopefully not, it should be a relatively short day, and then we'll have plenty of time this evening to show you some more technology things," Yancy smiles at my reassurance, picking up the notepad and reading my number. Fortunately, I still have a landline in the kitchen, so he can reach me if needed. 

"Well, I hope youse have a good day," Yancy wishes me well as I leave, and it's kind of nice to have someone around to care that I'm going.

It's even nicer to have someone waiting for me when I get home, Yancy happily calling a greeting from the kitchen when I walk in the front door. The house smells good, some spices and vegetables sizzling, something that will be warm and comforting when eaten. 

Yancy pokes his head out of the kitchen as I drop my stuff in the living, a warm smile on his face that I can't help smiling back at. "I hope youse don't mind. I found a recipe that worked with the stuff youse had, so I figured I could cook," 

"I don't mind at all! It's very sweet of you to make dinner," Yancy looks incredibly pleased with himself at the praise, puffing up a bit and grinning widely. 

"I'm gonna take a quick shower and change if you don't mind," I try peeking into the kitchen, but Yancy waves me away, not even giving me a glimpse of what he's working on. 

"Youse go, I got dinner under control," I'm quickly shooed towards the hallway, laughing as Yancy lightly pokes my side when I try to turn back towards the living room.

"The stuff'll be there when youse are comfy," Yancy says, interrupting me before I can even argue that I was going for my stuff. I admit defeat, shutting myself into my room to get my things together for a quick shower.

It's always nice to wash off the weight of the day, letting most of the stress from the day swirl down the drain. It was even nicer to have a warm home-cooked meal waiting for me when I come out in some comfortable clothes. 

Yancy is practically glowing with excitement as we sit at the table, eagerly awaiting my verdict as I take my first bite of the dish. 

"Yancy, this is amazing," I say, scooping down a second bite as soon as the words are out of my mouth. 

"I knew all those kitchen shifts would come in handy," Yancy answers with a broad smile as he starts to eat. 

"I'll say they did! I can't remember the last time I ate something this good," even if I enjoy cooking, it's much easier to get takeout on my way home instead of trying to coordinate my day enough to cook something. And, delicious as the takeout may be, this was way healthier and _way_ tastier than whatever grease coated thing I would've ordered for myself. 

"And I'll make sure to take care of the dishes, don't worry about those," 

"I can help with the dishes," I offer.

"Nah, I got em-"

"Really, I'd like to help! At least let me dry them," 

"Fine, youse can be my dish dryer," Yancy agrees, his tone teasingly begrudging, betrayed by the soft smile on his face.

We talk about our days during dinner, my day was pretty standard, and Yancy spent most of the day getting acquainted with my kitchen and a small assortment of cookbooks. When we finish eating, I grab my phone, hooking it up to a speaker on the kitchen counter.

"You like musicals, yeah?" I ask, scrolling through my music library as Yancy brings the plates from the table. The pans, bowls, and cutlery used in cooking already had the sink full, so he sets them on the counter, peering at my phone with curiosity.

"Yeah, I like a good show tune," he agrees, ducking under the sink to grab dish soap and a sponge. 

"This is one I've been into lately," I say, clicking on the album art of _Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812_ , the familiar accordion chords of the prologue coming through the speaker as Yancy starts the water. Yancy, I quickly discover, is the type of person who likes to feel the music through his body, bopping his head and idly swaying as the prologue switches from its opening drone to a more upbeat attitude. He's quickly invested in the storyline as well, asking for more details as we continue listening. About 90% of the show is sung, so most of it is included in the soundtrack, and we're hardly a quarter of the way through it when the dishes are done. I move the speaker into the living room, continuing to play the show as I show him more about the TV and game consoles, explaining the concept of streaming services when he notices the icon for Netflix on the screen. Then we get into a discussion on the different shows and movies he can watch while stuck at home, and before we know it, we've reached the end of the musical, the soundtrack stopping and making the room feel far less lively.

"It's over already?" Yancy questions, slowly clicking through one of the genre categories to see what it had to offer.

"That soundtrack is two hours long," I tell him, surprised at how quickly the time has passed as Yancy and I hung out together. 

"Two hours? Man, it felt like nothin," 

"I feel the same way! It's really nice to spend time with you since we didn't get a lot of time together in the penitentiary," 

"Well, we got plenty of time together to look forward to," Yancy's smile is almost shy as he looks away from the TV to face me directly. 

"Yeah, I'm sure we do," I answer with a shy smile of my own.

The rest of the week passes quickly, my days going by slow as ever, but the mornings and evenings spent with Yancy flying by. We're soon exploring various phone and laptop options for him, making sure he'll be well set up with any technology he needs once he starts working. Then we're rearranging the spare room, making space for it to become Yancy's bedroom, the bed and furniture arriving with a small team to assemble it shortly after. It's nice to have the couch back as a couch, the pillowcases and blankets tossed into the wash and then into the dryer, finally finding a home on Yancy's new bed. It isn't anything extravagant, but it did require moving my hobby supplies and one of the bookshelves into my room so that Yancy actually has space to move around. 

From there, we go clothes shopping- Yancy didn't have many outfits that weren't his prison uniform, so it was a long trip to fully stock his closet. It's a long and tiring day, but when we end up back at home with containers of Chinese take out to share, it doesn't feel as exhausting. 

"I know I've only been here a week, but…" I look over at Yancy as he pauses, watching his brow furrow in concentration before he continues, "I really feel at home here with youse. Thank youse, for all of this,"

My heart melts at his vulnerable face, and it hits me at once how deeply I'm crushing on the man beside me. I had found him attractive since the moment I saw him, sure, but this. This deep ache in my chest, there's no mistaking it for anything else.

"I just wanted to say how much I appreciate youse and what you've done for me," Yancy finishes his thought with a smile on his face, taking my hand and squeezing before letting it back on the couch. I manage to respond appropriately, but all I can think is _Fuck, I've got it bad_.

Yancy quickly becomes an established part of the household. We eat breakfast and dinner together and usually spend the evenings in the living room together. Some evenings we watch TV or play a game or talk, but other evenings Yancy has headphones in, quietly humming along to his music while looking at job applications, and I sit with a book or work and just enjoy being in his presence. I'm curled up in the armchair today, Yancy sprawled out on the couch, reading something on his phone as he absently taps his foot to the beat of whatever he's listening to. My attention is drawn to a strip of skin where his shirt has ridden up, and my mind briefly wanders to what it would be like to put my hand there, push up and up, exposing more of his toned abs-

Then I realize Yancy is looking up at me, a slightly confused smile on his face. I can feel the start of a blush rising on my cheeks, even as I try to suppress it, smiling back at him as he pulls an earbud out. 

"Is there something on my shirt?" He asks, looking from me down to his stomach with visible confusion. 

"No, I was just zoning out a bit, sorry," I apologize with a laugh, hopefully not sounding too forced.

"Ah, got it," Yancy puts his earbud back in, accepting the explanation without another thought. Part of me gives thanks to the universe that Yancy is so oblivious and unquestioning, but the other part of me wishes he'd be a little more interested in how frequently I zone out while looking his way. My heart is in the worst kind of limbo- Yancy has become a comfortable part of my routine and daily life. I feel so content having him just be a part of my space, but my heart is also desperate for us to move past this platonic stage into something more serious, and I can't even untangle the feelings enough to confess to him. I sigh deeply and turn my attention back to my phone, trying to get my mind off of things with Yancy. 

Things only get worse from there. Yancy apparently expresses comfort with people through touch, and each friendly arm slung over my shoulder has my face burning and heart fluttering. I nearly combust when his hand rests on my lower back when passing me in the kitchen, and he just keeps doing it, never noticing how flustered it makes me. I complain to Mark about it frequently, and Mark is always eager to involve himself in what he considers of interest. So, after my fiftieth rant of the month, Mark invites himself to dinner that weekend, saying he'd like to build his friend circle more and Yancy seems like a great guy. It's a little out of character for him to make plans out of the blue, but I don't question it too much, just going to the living room to let Yancy know and make plans for what we'll be cooking. 

So, that Saturday, we spend the morning grocery shopping and tidying the apartment in preparation for our guest. By the afternoon, it looks like we maintain a lovely household. We do keep it pretty nice, but now we have a tablecloth and the fancy plates out, which ups the niceness of a house by 50% every time. We won't be finished making the meal before Mark gets there, but it wasn't like he would be offended because we actually have to prepare the fancy meal that he would be enjoying. Well, knowing him, he may be offended by it, but he can keep it to himself if he wants to eat. 

Yancy is checking the entree in the oven, and I'm sauteing the vegetables when the doorbell rings, cuing the arrival of my friend. Yancy quickly takes over vegetable duty as I rush to the front door, opening it and greeting Mark with a smile. At this point, it has been well over a month since I last got to see him, so I was genuinely happy for the chance to catch up, as well as the opportunity for him to meet Yancy. 

"It's so good to see you, Mark! How has the new job been treating you?" I ask as we enter the living room, Mark shedding his jacket to lay it on the armchair.

"Well, it isn't as interesting as our previous endeavors, but it's well paying enough that I'll stick at it for a bit," he responds absently, his attention on the door to the kitchen.

"Yancy should be finishing up soon if you want to wait out here, or I can get you set up at the table and get you something to drink," I offer. Being a good host is of great importance to me; I like spoiling my friends when they come over for a meal. This is why I don't invite many people over- it's a lot of work to play chef and host in one go. Yancy helping with the cooking made my job a lot easier.

"I'd like a drink if you wouldn't mind," Mark says, already heading towards the kitchen. Yancy is transferring the vegetables from their pan to a serving dish when we enter the kitchen, and he turns to face Mark and me with a charming grin, offering his hand to Mark. I nearly roll my eyes at how intensely they grasp hands for a shake- they are such boys sometimes- but they both seem pleased, so I don't comment on the aggressive hand squeezing. Mark settles in at the table as Yancy, and I wrap up preparations, Yancy's warm hand finding a home on my back as he brushes past. Mark is grinning at me as I come to the table with a nice bottle of some fizzy thing, but I don't understand precisely what his eyebrow wiggle is implying. You would think that after all these years of heisting together, I would be better at reading his cues- you would think wrong because he is so all over the place that it is absolutely impossible to keep up sometimes.

I keep Mark mostly entertained while Yancy finishes up the last of the cooking and plating. Then we're all settling in at the, now very full, table, casually chatting while passing the food around for everyone to take servings. Yancy is engaging Mark effortlessly, asking about him, our heists- I may have given him a heads up that Mark likes nothing more than talking about himself. I only half listen; I have heard Mark talk about himself _plenty_ , but jerk to attention when I feel a foot nudge mine. Mark is smiling brightly at me before turning to Yancy with a more relaxed grin.

"So, how long have you two been dating?" He asks innocently, and I choke on the forkful of food I had just started to swallow. 

"Scuse me?" Yancy asks after a small cough.

"Well, there's the fact that you're living together and cooking full meals and hosting together, and all that touchy stuff. I just assumed you had started dating, and my good friend here just forgot to mention it," Mark elaborates as I suddenly realize what he's doing and stare daggers across the table at him. This is why Mark is the worst person to vent to; he always has to make a scheme.

"I didn't mention it because we aren't dating, Mark," I try my best to keep my tone light, laughing slightly as I finish. I can't help the redness slowly rising to my face, though, Yancy glancing towards me only worsening it. 

"Maybe you should consider it. You'd be a cute couple," Mark suggests, winking at Yancy as I try to gauge my chances of successfully kicking him in the shin. 

"I'd certainly be a lucky man, can't deny that," Yancy says, and if I wasn't blushing before, I sure as heck am now. Where did that even come from? What does it mean? Could he really like me like that? No joking laugh follows the statement, so I'm almost certain he meant it and _oh my gosh, could he really like me?_

"I think I'd be the lucky one," I respond, and goodness, I could kick myself for it. _Why would I say that?_ Yancy smiles my way; his deep brown eyes are so gentle, and gosh, no wonder I fell in love with him. And then, Mark has to be himself and bring the attention back his way.

"Yancy, I didn't expect you to be such a good cook, but this is fantastic!" 

I'm almost grateful for the moment to be over because it was awkward and intense and something, but man, would I like a further explanation of what the heck just happened. 

Dinner continues with a relative sense of normalcy, and I'm pleased with how well Mark and Yancy are getting along by the end of the night. Mark stays fairly late, it's well past ten before he's gathering his coat and saying his goodbyes, and then Yancy and I are alone in the living room, the silence quickly growing uncomfortable as it drags on. 

"So," I start, the sentence dying as Yancy turns to face me.

"So," he repeats, taking a breath before continuing, "You'd be lucky to date me?"

I blush at the question, stammering over a reply before taking a deep breath of my own.

"Of course I'd be lucky to date you! You're gorgeous, a great cook, a great musician, you're so sweet and helpful around the house, and I know you had a rough past, but you're just so wonderful. I can't believe how lucky I am to even know you," all of my building feelings rush out at once, in an embarrassing and emotional jumble. Yancy's eyes are averted when I bring myself to face him, and I almost die from embarrassment because I just said all that, poured my heart out to him, and he doesn't even reciprocate-

"I feel the same way about youse. I mean, I knew youse for about twenty minutes, and that was enough for my dumb heart to put you above the only life I've really had because you're so handsome, or beautiful, both really, and youse let me into your home and life and it just- you saved me," 

My jaw nearly drops at Yancy's confession, shock overtaking my brain as Yancy hesitantly takes my hand.

“You really- I mean, I… _I_ saved _you_?” I ask incredulously-the idea that I was the one who saved him is kind of ridiculous to me. He, very literally, was the one who saved me; I don't see how he views it the other way around.

"Until I met youse, I was going to spend my life rotting away in prison for shit that happened when I was a kid. You gave me something to work towards, a reason to live a real life outside of prison. If that's not saving me, I don't know what it would be," Yancy takes my other hand in his, facing me straight on, his face serious as he looks in my eyes. My heart is fluttering as he leans in, my brain basically stalling as his lips gently press to mine. It's a relatively chaste and brief kiss, but my heart hammers in my chest all the same, instinctively squeezing Yancy's hands before he can step away. 

"It's not your fault, you know," I say quietly. Yancy didn't talk about his family often- didn't remember most of his childhood, in fact, but from what he did remember and what happened with his parents, it wasn't hard to get an idea of what happened. "What happened wasn't your fault, and you _do_ deserve a second chance at having a life, you do deserve to be on the outside, and you deserve to be loved, _really_ loved. You deserve the best,"

"Lucky I found youse, then, huh?" The line is so cheesy I nearly laugh, but it also leaves me incredibly flustered.

"I mean it, Yancy. I love you, and I'm lucky I got to meet you," well, if my feelings weren't out there before, they sure are now. Yancy doesn't say anything at first, dropping his gaze to the floor, and I panic for a moment- was the L Word too much and too fast?

But then one hand cups my face, the other grabbing my lower back and pulling me close, and his lips are on mine again, letting them do the talking with the passion in his kiss. His hands are warm and steady, squeezing slightly as I part my lips, letting him completely take the lead. I finally get the chance to feel the body I've spent so long admiring, sliding my hands over his biceps, his pecs, his side- it's all warm and firm and perfect.

My face is bright red when he pulls back, resting his forehead on mine. He's so close I almost miss the dopey smile on his face, and I'm sure my face reflects the same expression. 

"I love youse," he mutters, voice low as his lips brush against mine again. I chase his lips eagerly, my balance shifting onto Yancy a bit too hard, making him lose his balance as well, leaving us to land in a tangled heap on the couch. I'm laughing, breathless, as Yancy draws me onto his lap, nuzzling his face in my neck to press sloppy kisses there. I pull my hand through his hair, gently pulling him away from my neck so I can catch my breath. My laughter combined with the kisses made it hard to breathe. 

Yancy stares into my eyes with a large smile on his face, looking at me like I'm the entire world, and I feel so in love with him that it nearly hurts.

"Well, I'm glad Mark gave us the chance to talk about this," I admit, realizing I probably would've spent ages just pinning for Yancy when he felt the same way the entire time.

"I'd been thinking of saying something but didn't know how to bring it up without looking like a creep," Yancy answers with a slight laugh. 

"How could you look like a creep?" 

"I dunno, I didn't want it to seem like I was taking advantage of youse. I thought it might look like I was using my parole status to get into your house and make a move on you,"

"Huh, I guess it could look like that," if I didn't reciprocate, then it definitely could've been bad for Yancy, who is totally reliant on me letting him live here to stay out of prison. I can imagine why he'd be nervous about being the first to broach the topic of romantic feelings. 

For a moment, it's quiet and still, just Yancy gently holding my hips as I straddle his lap, my hands tangled in his hair- wow, we moved fast. More than fine by me, though.

"So, would youse want to… would youse want to cuddle tonight?" Yancy asks, voice soft. 

"I'd love that," I answer, blush on my cheeks as I shift off Yancy's lap, letting him stand and follow me to my room. As we settle into bed, Yancy wrapping his arms around me as I nuzzle into his chest, I find myself faced with one thought.

"I think we owe Mark dinner," I mumble, Yancy snorting slightly, his breath puffing on my head. 

Maybe letting Yancy move in wasn't my most thought out and rational decision, but it sure was the best one I had made.


End file.
